Seven Sexy Sins
by a-buttered-cat
Summary: Eames challenges Arthur to 7 days of sexiness.
1. Chapter 1

Originally published as part of the Inception kink meme at Live Journal and here at my LJ: **a_buttered_cat**

Betas: **writteninhaste** and **laughing_lovers**

"I brought chinese," Arthur calls out as he enters the suite he is sharing with Eames.

They didn't need a forger for this simple little job but Eames had insisted on accompanying him to the site just as well. Over the past two weeks they had only managed to have sex a meager four times.

"When's the extraction?" To his credit, Eames has asked him this impatient question only every night since the job had began.

"Done," Arthur tosses his keys on the table. "I meet with the client to hand over the intel. tomorrow morning."

Eames appears in a doorway, eagerness in his eyes. "Do we flee?"

"We're safe."

"Great, so how about -"

"Not tonight, Eames. As soon as I get back tomorrow you can have your way with me. I promise."

"And you're going to give me seven days and seven nights," Eames approaches the table with a sheen in his eyes. At Arthur's questioning glance he pushes a chair out and sits in it catty-corner to the table, patting his lap.

"You're not going to explain unless I sit, are you?" At Eames' silence Arthur rolls his eyes and sets out the utensils and cartons of food and then drapes himself into Eames' lap.

"Darling, when you take a job you get lost in it. Between jobs we'd surely end up in limbo just from our sex life. You owe me." He said it as if it made all the sense in the world.

"Limbo from our sex life?"

"You are going to give me seven sexy sins starting tomorrow when you get home."


	2. Chapter 2

Lust is the easy one. Arthur knows once he walks through that door exactly what to expect and he looks forward to it.

Closing and locking the door he finds the suite transformed into something that Eames must have thought would appeal to the romantic in Arthur. The suite's lights are off and there are flickers of light and shadows from the glow of candles. A perfume wafts in the air. The floors are peppered with rose petals. Eames clearly had too much time on his hands this morning.

"Eames?" He knows he will find Eames in the bedroom but it's out of habit that Arthur announces himself. They both do this when coming home to the other to ensure they don't take the other by surprise; it reduces the chances of being shot.

On his way to the bedroom Arthur loosens his tie and sheds his waistcoat, hanging it once he reaches the closet. As he's unclipping his cufflinks he hears Eames approach from behind and lean against the wall. Eames likes to watch him studiously undress himself and he indulges the man, placing the cufflinks in their little box on the shelf of the closet door as if he doesn't hear his lover right behind him.

Arthur unbuttons his shirt as if he has all the time in the world. Eames draws in a slow breath as the shirt is taken off. He watches the lithe muscles of his Arthur's back and shoulders work as he hangs, adjusts, and then stretches a little to put the hanger inside the closet. Arthur isn't exactly as weak as his thin frame would have most believe; Eames knows what those lithe muscles under his suits are capable of.

In the faint glow of the candles he can just make out the darker shadow of the tiny ouroboros tattoo in the middle of Arthur's back. It was low enough that it drew your eyes to his ass, but high enough not to be called a tramp stamp. Eames hadn't been too surprised when he had found it the first time they had fucked: with Arthur's love of paradox it only made sense that he had one of the oldest known paradoxical symbols engraved on his flesh as a reminder.

After Arthur sheds his pants and hangs them, Eames pushes away from the wall and holds open a robe for the man to slip on. "Was your client satisfied?"

"Very," Arthur greets Eames with an open kiss and lifts his arms around Eames' neck. "Now it's your turn, as promised."

On the bed Eames has Arthur lay on his stomach and remove the robe, but keep his boxer briefs on. "I'm not sure who will be tested more tonight, love. You or me," he purrs as he dribbles warm oil over the toned shoulder blades.

Straddling Arthur, Eames doesn't make any contact with him except for his hands as he begins the massage. He knows from the small smile on Arthur's face that Arthur thinks it will be Eames who breaks first, unable to resist his tight and perfect ass. He is ready to prove him wrong; Eames has never teased Arthur the way he plans on teasing him tonight. They usually go at it like bunnies; foreplay being a rarity in their sex life.

The massage oil is solely focused on Arthur's shoulders and neck, working out the kinks and tension that he always seems to carry there. When Eames gets to running his hands down the spine he's rewarded with an emotional sigh and slight shift of Arthur's hips against the bed.

Eames is hard. He's been hard since before Arthur arrived. But a little wiggle of Arthur's ass isn't about to make him give in this quickly. He pushes his trapped erection against Arthur's boxer briefs firmly, digging a surprised grunt out of Arthur as the other man's reflexes have him pushing back against the hardness. Eames indulges the warmth of those cheeks against his front for a moment before he pulls away to lean down and bite Arthur's ass and slaps his thighs.

"Get up, I got a movie," Eames bounces up the bed into the pillows and grins down at Arthur's incredulous facial expression. "Right here," he pats the empty space under his open arm and holds Arthur to his side as he pressing the play button on the remote.

Settling into the crook of Eames' arm, Arthur tries to ignore his bulging briefs and focuses on the screen. What comes on has him blinking in shock and dismay. "You didn't…"

Eames did indeed. On the screen what starts to play out is the first time Eames ever fucked Arthur. What's more disturbing is that the camera isn't still. "Oh Eames, come on!"

Eames laughs and ducks as Arthur swats at his face and pushes away from the forger. "It was Yusuf's idea!" But it's a piss-poor excuse. "Now come on, aren't you a little curious to see us in action besides a mirror?"

Arthur sighs and grits his teeth and resettles against Eames. "Turn it up," he grumbles.

"Happily," Eames beams and raises the remote. It only takes 30seconds and he can feel Arthur's demeanor shift as he watches the screen, remembering. It had been an amazing fuck. Not that the proceeding fucks weren't just as good but for their first time together it had been utterly mindblowing. And seeing it like a 3rd party was another story altogether. They got to see how they moved together and some of the camera angles left Arthur wondering if Yusuf had a copy of this for himself at home.

Arthur just stares at Eames on the TV after a moment. The man's body is an artform in the way it moves on top of his lighter weight. The way he sounds. And god, his cock! Absently, Arthur reaches down for his bulge only to find it swatted away by Eames' hand. "Not yet, love."

Arthur forces himself to remain still while watching their simultaneous orgasms. He wants to climb on top of Eames and screw his own brains out by riding him furiously. But, now, he has a sense of what his lover is planning: driving him insane with lust. So he waits for the TV to be shut off but he knows Eames is aware of just how hard it is for him now. Arthur's muscles tremor and he's afraid to move and cause friction in his boxer briefs.

"Turn back over," Eames purrs into his ear and he gets a visceral response as goosebumps break out down Arthur's shoulders and a deep-seated shudder makes his abdomen tense.

Arthur rolls over onto his stomach and bows his back with a needy whine. "You know a normal man can't take this forever," he growls out.

"Since when are you normal?" Eames chuckles and palms Arthur's ass. "I know you can take more, and that's the whole point of today isn't it? To make you need me so bad it's unlawful."

"Fuck, Eames, if you really want to discuss unlawful -" he breaks off with a sharp cry as Eames slaps his ass hard.

"Don't nitpick," Eames scolds verbally.

While his hand is there, Eames spreads his fingers over the firm cheeks and curls the tips to press into the muscles. While seeing how much pressure he can use like that, slowly digging the tips of his fingers in harder and harder, his eyes flit up to the flushed look on Arthur's face. When Arthur's brows start to crease in discomfort he eases up on the pressure to change tactics: rubbing two fingers along the top of the cleft, easing deeper and deeper into the crack with each rubbing motion.

The boxer briefs stretch to accommodate his fingers until Eames is purring at the sight on Arthur's face. "Don't move," he whispers and squeezes Arthur's left cheek before standing from the bed. It Arthur moves to untangle his briefs from his crack he will have to punish him…

When he returns with a bowl of fruit and chocolate dip he is pleased to see Arthur hasn't moved a muscle.

"Fantastic," he smirks and resettles on the bed. "That has to be getting uncomfortable," he hums and perks a brow at Arthur who just groans. "You can move now." Arthur is offered a grape as a peace offering. "You can lie on your back," Eames says after Arthur has settled on his side. And then, once he has settled on his back, "With this pillow just above your ass." Arthur complies readily.

With Arthur now beautifully stretched before him, Eames squeezes a strawberry between his fingers and runs the gooey mess from Arthur's chin down to his treasure trail. He jerks the man's briefs down his thighs, salivating at the way Arthur jumps and hisses and his cock springs free. With the briefs discarded, Arthur stretches out a little more, seemingly comfortable but trying to entice Eames to fuck him already.

"Hands above your head," Eames voice is gravelly, and Arthur obeys, cock twitching in anticipation.

Eames' mouth has always driven Arthur crazy, but he has never been worshipped by it before so he's in for a real ride when Eames starts to suck the strawberry off the underside of his chin. Arthur moans and hums as Eames presses his open mouth over his adam's apple, tongue lapping at the sticky red streak there.

Licking down his neck to his collar bone doesn't get as much of a response so Eames takes a detour to a nipple when he reaches Arthur's sternum. Biting it between his front teeth he pulls and releases, before bathing it with his tongue and scraping a tooth over it with a growl. Arthur's trembling response makes him smile ferally.

Eames takes his time leaving a moist trail down the center of Arthur's chest and stomach and navel, loving the quivering muscles under his teeth and tongue as he drags both over sweetened flesh. Nosing through Arthur's treasure trail, Eames huffs a breath on the junction of Arthur's hip and crotch. Arthur's muscles jump and he gasps breathlessly.

"Oh, Arthur, really?" Eames gives a chuckle, delighted at this button he's found. He forgoes giving the blushing cock any attention and blows a cool stream of air on the shallow dip of flesh after bathing it with his tongue. Arthur bows his back tightly with a shudder that starts in his gut and travels out into his toes and finger tips. "Eames…" there's hint of a pleading tone in that whine and Eames' pants tighten painfully at the sound.

From the look of things, Eames knows neither one of them will last much longer- he's not used to waiting this long either. Eames sheds his pants and takes the pillow out from under Arthur's back so when he settles between those hot thighs Arthur can comfortably cling to him. Reaching for the drawer that has the lube he feels Arthur grip his wrist hard, fingertips digging into a pressure point. "E-easy love, okay," Eames says. Instead of preparing Arthur for a short ride he reaches between them and lines their cocks up with a fist.

"Now," Arthur demands breathlessly, neediness wringing his voice painfully. Eames complies, rubbing their hips together with a firm push. Their trapped cocks slide against each other, sweat and precum easing the way. A little harder and a little faster and Arthur is lifting his hips with these needy little grunts until his hips jerk with a moan; his cock erupting against Eames. Eames is a little fiercer in his own finish and he collapses next to Arthur after every drop has been squeezed from both of them.

"Well…that… I…" Arthur ends in a soft growl at his current mental capability. With a chuckle Eames drapes a strong arm over Arthur's abdomen. "It's mutual I assure you."


	3. Chapter 3

Monday. That's Arthur's first thought upon waking. He's never been much of a morning person, but he knows Eames has let him sleep in because he's waking by his own will and not because of an alarm or Eames' gentle shaking. 10:09 am. That much sleep, combined with Eames taking proper care of both their libidos yesterday and no wonder he feels so refreshed upon waking this morning.

He idly knows that today is also the second of seven days that Eames wanted for gratifying their carnal urges. At that thought he feels familiar warmth get him partially erect. For now he can forego pleasure and he ignores the pressure inside his boxer-briefs.

He heads to the shower to wash yesterday's debauchery off his abdomen, hip, thighs… hair… he wonders how he got that sticky mess in his hair. Clean once again, he dresses. Call it habit or comfort or whatever, he just feels safer when he's dressed even though he doesn't have plans to leave the suite today. He lounges and reads iMan and His Symbols/i by Carl G. Jung while eating breakfast. He is still aware of the partial hard-on he's sporting as he delves into mythology and symbolism.

When Eames announces himself at the suite door it's already 11:00 Am. Eames wouldn't be surprised if Arthur was still asleep, but he announces himself just in case the man is awake or in case his arrival wakes Arthur.

Eames' face breaks into a wide smile when he sees Arthur is up. "Arthur, awake and reading already?" He moves Arthur's feet aside so he can sit on the couch and take Arthur's shoes off his feet. "Can't say I'm surprised you're reading, but I guess I am a little disappointed not to find you indulging in something lewd without me."

Arthur sighs and sets the book aside, knowing from past experience that he can't turn Eames off or ignore him. Cupping the back of his head, Arthur looks down and wiggles his toes. "What lewd acts would you have liked to find me doing, Eames?" He perks a brow. Though he had no desire to get himself off with a half erect cock, now that Eames is here he is suddenly tenting his pants in excitement.

"Nothing too imaginative. At least rubbing one off instead of ignoring that," Eames admonishes Arthur and he nods at the other's crotch. Skilled, strong fingers gently press into and massage the areas between Arthur's toes, causing him to groan gratefully.

"Eames, as much as I do enjoy your love of my feet, do you think we can move on with it?" Arthur now realizes that not once yesterday did Eames ever properly fuck him. It was all tease and denial and then quick rubs. So this meant it had been days, or longer, since he had felt Eames inside him. And suddenly, this seems very important to Arthur.

Had it been yesterday still, Eames would have continued with the slow massage. He would have rubbed every ounce of tension from those toes, arches, heels, and ankles. Then, while he sucked and licked and nibbled on each toe in turn he would have found the nerves in Arthur's legs and gently massaged them at the curve of leg and ankle. He would have been painfully slow and thorough as he inched his way up by centimeters until he found himself at Arthur's thighs. And what a wonderful time he would have had there, now that he knew of a little sex button to tease.

Arthur had most of the other erogenous zones that Eames was familiar with on a partner's body, but the response Eames received when he teased or rubbed that spot between hip and crotch… that was something special. Tucking one of Arthur's legs behind him and against the cushions, Eames took the other and wrapped it around his hips as he leaned forward and over Arthur. "Move on to what, Arthur?" He molded his fingers of one hand against Arthur's sharp hip and idly brushed his thumb over that special place.

Arthur saw it coming and still he couldn't control his response to being touched in that place from this man: his chin tilting up, a sound that could only be described as noise stuttering past his lips, and two opposite urges (wanting to pull away, wanting to push in) being controlled by two separate muscles… one set trying to push him away while the other tried to pull him closer and their feud causing a tremble in his thighs.

"Stop it," Arthur finally spits out as he doesn't so much push but kick out with one leg to dislodge himself instead of doing exactly what Eames wants; he knows Eames likes to see him a writhing mess like that and perhaps ordinarily he wouldn't mind, but right now he's feeling suddenly irked about it and he knows it's been too long since Eames just fucked him right. "Fuck me, Eames," he growls.

"Gladly," Eames sucks in a breath hungrily as he sits straight to pull off his shirt, exposing those muscles he knows Arthur is oh so fond of. "Maybe… take off your shirt," he says as he opens Arthur's belt, button, and zipper. Pulling Arthur's pants off Eames tosses them aside. Holding Arthur down this time, Eames thumbs dig into those creases that the junction of hip and crotch creates. He mouths at Arthur's cock through the thin, soft fabric of his boxers.

"F-fu –!" Arthur exhales sharply as the two opposite urges torture him once again until he shoves at Eames head roughly. Once he has Eames' hands off his hips, his nose and brow wrinkle in anger at the other man. "Damn it, Eames."

Eames is unperturbed, he's had to tame Arthur on days like this before… Arthur is usually riled easily when he hasn't had Eames' dick shoved up his ass for a while; the behavior is sometimes easy to predict. "Put your hands behind your head again," he gently coaxes Arthur with a hand on a bare thigh; lightly petting the smooth flesh until Arthur huffs and links his fingers behind his head. "You're not allowed to touch me or yourself now."

Eames is known to give Arthur orders during sex nearly every time they have sex. Yet, there's no real consequence if Arthur disobeys, because he has never ever disobeyed. Arthur craves that dominance so much it's carved in his morale to always obey it… Eames has never tested its limits, because he doesn't want to risk abusing and breaking that condition.

So when he returns to teasing the fascinating erogenous zones of Arthur's creases he keeps his touches light at first and trades each one off for the other every few seconds to keep Arthur on his toes. When Eames is sure Arthur isn't going to try and bolt again, he strips Arthur of his boxer-briefs and replaces his feather-light touches with his mouth. Arthur digs his heel into the cushion and Eames instantly stops, looking up to see where Arthur is mentally. He smiles when he sees the other has settled in to enjoy this, instead of starting to fight it again.

With Arthur now at his mercy he nuzzles into the sweet spot and runs his tongue up the crease to blow cooling air on the moist trail. With his hand on the opposite hip he brushes his thumb over the area now and then while his mouth teases and tortures the other side. He's only satisfied when Arthur is driven into arching his spine, digging his heel into the couch to try and inch closer to Eames' mouth, and digging his fingers into his own hair to pull at it.

When Eames' pulls back Arthur looks up at him with a calmed gaze, chest rising and falling with want, and hair all mussed from his grip on it. He is now bridled and compliant from the overload caused by that sweet spot on his flesh.

Eames strips his own pants and fishes the vial of lube out of the pocket before dropping them to the floor and handing the vial to Arthur, who takes it eagerly. Eames sits back and watches as Arthur slicks two of his fingers and prepares himself; his eyelashes flutter and he makes little grunting noises. It doesn't take long before he's lying back again, pulling Eames between his open thighs, and raising his hips with a heartbreaking little whimper of want. It has definitely been too long since Arthur has felt Eames' cock moving inside him.

Eames hooks Arthur's legs over his shoulders and angles his crown at the slick entrance, easing himself inside. He watches as Arthur's eyelashes go half-mast and fingers clench at the pillow on which his head is resting, and his lips, moist and blushing, fall open in a silent gasp. Eames is reminded how much Arthur loves paradoxes for the body under him is tight as hell and yet so needy for his cock that there is little resistance as he pushes in to the hilt.

Holding Arthur's hip with one hand Eames plants the other next to Arthur's shoulder, gripping the edge of the couch hard as he thrusts into the tight heat. Arthur's moaning, clenching response drives Eames forward again to lean down and catch Arthur's next moan with his tongue. He drinks in the sounds Arthur makes like he's quenching a dry thirst.

Setting an erratic rhythm to keep them both high, Eames' thrusts inch them both closer and closer to falling off the couch until Eames' is forced to stop and catch Arthur, firmly resettling him into a safer position on the narrow space. Gasping, he gazes down at Arthur's flushed face and gives the other man a tender smile before he picks up their dance again. Arthur wraps his arms around Eames, holding on as the new angle now drives Eames' cock to rub and tease his sweet spot.

"Mmn –" Arthur tightens his grip around Eames and digs his fingers into strong, flexing shoulder muscles as waves of desire rush through him. Eames lowers his head to nuzzle into the crook of Arthur's neck, focusing all his efforts on driving Arthur to make more of those noises; little grunts and "uh" and "aahn" sounds that Arthur otherwise might muffle by biting something.

"Come for us, darling…" Eames whispers into Arthur's neck. Arthur obeys with a shudder and groan, his body clamping down around Eames. Eames buries himself deep with a hard push and has to lean into the back of the couch as his muscles threaten give out. He shakes and rolls his hips against Arthur as he comes inside the clenching heat. They remain like that for several moments, each frozen in the rippling of their orgasms until they're left sated and drained.

Eames rubs two finger tips through the mess on Arthur's rising and falling abdomen and brings them up to his lips. He licks the sticky essence off before he eases himself from the comforting heat of Arthur's body and sits with their legs entangled. "Feel better now?" Arthur just looks at Eames with a small curl to his lips; yes, much better.

So their day goes. Eames takes Arthur up against the burning stove as Arthur finds himself interrupted in the middle of cooking. Eames takes him again up against the hallway wall, breaking the glass of a framed photo there as Arthur tries to grab it for balance and sends it crashing to the floor. In the bedroom doorway Arthur rides Eames and feels a bead of lost broken glass from the photo wedge its way into his foot. They try again on their way to get ice but Arthur quickly finds that the bottom of his foot is very sensitive when it's been carved by stray glass.

"Eames, enough," Arthur finally sighs, the pain of the cut making it hard to keep it up, though he can tell well enough that Eames is still hard as hell from their false start in the hallway. "I don't know how you can manage another go…" he's laying on his side and can feel Eames trying to get a rise out of him by stroking that spot this side of his hip and rub his erection against Arthur's ass. "What's on for tomorrow anyway? Greed is very much like gluttony so can't we wait until tomorrow to continue this marathon?"

"Tomorrow won't be a marathon, love," Eames chuckles wryly and plants a kiss on Arthur's temple. "I'll get you some antibiotic cream for that cut now." Eames rubs himself off in the bathroom before tossing on his clothes and heading out to the corner store.


	4. Chapter 4

"Sorry love, don't want it to get infected," Eames apologizes and rewraps Arthur's foot. He had just woken Arthur up and while he knew waking the man was risky business, like waking a bear, he hadn't wanted the wrapping to go unchanged for much longer. "Forgive me?" He nuzzles Arthur's ankle and is practically prostrating himself on the bed at Arthur's feet to do so. Arthur grumbles something obscene in response and nudges Eames' face away from his foot and then curls up on his side. Arthur tries to find that sleep pattern again but Eames has alerted that part of his mind that says: clean, eat, dress, and work. Still, by the time Arthur finally gives in to these bothersome notions he finds himself alone in the bed and he can smell the aroma of eggs and toast from down the hall.

Arthur shuffles down the hallway. They eat. Arthur gradually wakes up and feels more human as he sips on some tea and sugar. They lounge and kiss languidly. Arthur finds himself dragged to the couch where Eames hands him his Carl G. Jung book and pulls Arthur up onto his chest. Arthur reads while Eames just appreciates the feeling of a warm body on top of his.

Arthur loses track of time but after a few hundred pages he stretches against Eames and lays the book aside. "I thought today was greed… this doesn't seem very greedy of you, Eames. Quite the opposite."

"I thought you might be sore," Eames runs his hand down Arthur's back and over his ass. "So I changed things up a bit." He grins and lightly pats Arthur's cheeks. When the other winces, just a tad; he knows he made the right choice to forego greedy sex today.

"Spill," Arthur demands and his frown is so adorable that Eames can't take it seriously.

Eames tells him that he would love to make some people jealous of them. He entertains the idea of fucking Arthur slowly up against a wall of glass some place public and seeing the envy on others faces down below. Both of them agree that they couldn't really find themselves being envious of each other, but Arthur does not agree to public sex - Eames knows this already. He offers Arthur an alternative: "But you will with the PASIV won't you?"

It still doesn't sit right in Arthur's stomach. It's another thirty minutes before he finally agrees and when he relents it's because Eames is an excellent salesman. With a moment to himself in preparing the PASIV Arthur realizes for the first time just how amazing Eames is at his job: he sold Arthur the idea of public dream sex. Arthur. Arthur and public sex. It boggles even Arthur's mind for a moment and he doesn't realize that he has paused in his preparations and is staring into space, mulling this over, until Eames catches him by clearing his throat.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now," Eames chides and lies out on the bed, patting the area next to him. He grins like a child on Christmas morning when Arthur smiles at him. Arthur sits so his bare hip is pressed up against Eames' side and he takes Eames' wrist in his hand, gently swabbing it with alcohol before inserting the line. The entire routine is done without breaking eye contact and Eames finds that incredibly sexy. Eames begins to sit up with hunger in his eyes and Arthur "tsks" and pushes him back down on the bed.

"Don't keep me waiting," Eames purrs dangerously while holding Arthur's wrist and feels the soft pulse under the silky skin. "I might not last now."

"Go to sleep," Arthur whispers and leans in to place a kiss on Eames' nose. He hooks himself up to the PASIV and lies against Eames, resting his head on the others' shoulder before he presses the button that sends them both into Eames' dream.

Arthur finds himself in a locker room. He sighs with a shake of his head but can't stop the corners of his lips from turning up. Outside the locker doors he can hear the distinct echoing sounds of a swimming pool. Eames isn't here yet and Arthur is dressed but facing an open locker. Taking his street clothes off, Arthur slips the tiny red speedo on. He knows Eames is most likely wearing swim trunks. This is Eames' dream; of course he'd dress Arthur in as little as possible.

Approaching the deep end Arthur has no intention of jumping in and being drowned if the projections suspect him; he waits until he sees Eames and then sits on the edge of the pool, legs splayed and toes wiggling in the water against Eames' arms as the other swims up. "At least they're all adults," he comments on the projections. Most people might project a few children into such a setting.

He looks down at Eames between his knees and isn't surprised to see that Eames is wearing trunks. Eames nuzzles his pale, bare thigh and Arthur tenses as he feels hands firmly grip his ankles. He braces himself on the cold wet tiles but before Arthur can think of how to get out of it, Eames is already pulling him in. It's not what he expects; instead of being dunked up to his head he finds himself supported by Eames' strong arms and slowly lowered into the water. Eames' lips kiss him from abdomen to neck.

"That's rather rude of you," Eames murmurs against Arthur's mouth. "Of course they're all adults. How's the water?"

"Mm," Arthur wraps his arms around Eames and licks his lips. "I didn't know you swam." He looks over Eames' shoulder and sees a few projections take notice. They don't have a crowd yet but there are some questioning glances and a few smirks.

"I don't," Eames lowers his lips to nibble and suck on Arthur's neck while he slides a hand down Arthur's back to cup and squeeze one cheek. Arthur jumps and whines and Eames growls in response. He could take Arthur right here but he's not certain that, even in a dream, he can keep up the strength of holding them both afloat at the edge. He can, however, tease Arthur until the man is begging.

Eames slides his hand down into Arthur's tight speedo and presses his middle finger against the tight puckered entrance. He lifts his head from biting Arthur's neck to watch the other's face as he pushes his finger inside. When Arthur tilts his head back with a sigh, Eames licks his upturned chin. He hooks his finger when he finds Arthur's sweet spot to tease it with passing sweeps until Arthur is trembling in his arms and rutting against his groin. "Easy, Arthur," Eames whispers against his ear and brushes his lips against the lobe. After he eases a second finger inside the tight heat he presses them deep and begins to fuck Arthur until the other man is clawing at his back in desperation. With a chuckle he suddenly stops the stimulation by pulling his hand free and clamping it onto Arthur's hip to stop the pelvic movements of the other man.

"E-Eames," Arthur gasps in dismay at the sudden halt. At Eames' perked brow Arthur whines low in his throat. "Please."

"Please what?" Eames practically purrs.

"Damn it," Arthur curses but it doesn't sound right at all. He's trying to be demanding and angry but he can't call up the right tone and it still sounds like a plea.

"Say it," Eames ghosts his thumb over that groove of Arthur's hip once to emphasize his point; that he won't fuck Arthur until the man asks for it.

"Do it," Arthur grinds out between his teeth when he can't move to respond to the sensitive touch. "Please."

Eames knows he can push Arthur a little more than that, make the man get verbal and detailed and graphic. He hoists Arthur back up onto the edge of the pool and runs his hands up the man's thighs. "Do what?"

"Fuck. Me." Arthur flexes his thighs to inch his crotch closer to the edge where Eames' delectable mouth is. A splash from the other end of the pool reminds Arthur of where they are and his mouth suddenly feels dry. He looks up to see they have a few projections' full attention now - they are treading water and watching him with Eames like they're on screen; a free porn movie.

"I like to hear you say that," Eames bites the inside of Arthur's thigh and then licks the small hurt. He idly entertains the thought of forcing Arthur to rub himself off on the diving board but then decides against it; not wanting to push this dream too far by allowing the projections any chance of getting closer than they already are. Pulling himself out of the pool he helps Arthur to his feet and guides him to a floating pool toy, stranded on the concrete just outside the tile perimeter. "Lay down on your back."

When Eames pulls Arthur to the inflatable chair's edge it causes an obnoxious squeaking noise from flesh on plastic. Arthur makes a ridiculous face at the sound but spreads and raises his legs eagerly as Eames kneels on the edge of the chair.

Every thrust and groan is accompanied by obscene squeaking. If they didn't already have the projections' attention they sure do now. Arthur can see them in his peripheral, gathering in a haphazard circle around them. Most are men, some are women, and all have hunger in their gazes. Arthur has never felt so exposed; even back when he had first learned dream sharing he had never felt so open and vulnerable under another's scrutiny. He clings to Eames and buries his face in the other man's shoulder. He tries to focus on the feeling of Eames - his cock, his hands, his shoulder, his ragged breath against his hair…

Eames pushes Arthur back when he feels both their orgasms pending. He wants the other man to see him and see the projections - they're touching themselves now, a few have started to touch one another, and one pair is already locked in an intimate dance on the hard, cold tile. Arthur looks more undone than usual in this dreamscape, and when he does glance at the projections it is at first with nervous, shifting eyes and then something else that might be lust. Arthur comes with a shout and he's not looking at Eames but past him at the couple fucking just beyond Eames' shoulder.

Eames clamps his hands down onto Arthur's hips as he surges against him, burying his cock hard and deep as he grunts his own orgasm. He keeps his hips moving just enough to ride out the high of his orgasm. Arthur, slack and spent beneath him, smirks up at him and it makes Eames groan at the beauty of it. "My little minx," he starts to bend down to kiss Arthur when the other's facial expression transforms into concern and then fear so fast that Eames stops cold.

There's a familiar shape and then a familiar hand on Eames' shoulder. Still locked intimately with Arthur he feels another hand take his chin and turn his head. "Stephen…" he doesn't believe this is happening. He would have never expected this to happen. Not here with Arthur. Not like this. Still, it's not the Stephen he knows. Not exactly. In shock, he allows the blond to kiss him and as his eyes slit from the flood of memories he catches glimpse of a gun. Only it's pointing the wrong way to be Arthur's. He can't react fast enough and the loud echo of the shot seems to go on forever and then Arthur is lifeless -

Arthur wakes and stares at the ceiling for a silent moment. With moisture threatening to brim in his eyes he disconnects himself from the PASIV, winds up the cord, and swabs his wrist. With methodical, almost robotic, movements he dresses and runs some gel through his hair. Before he leaves the suite he buttons up his waistcoat and grabs his briefcase.

Eames wakes alone and utterly frayed. He is torn between needing to do two things: find Arthur, and try to make Arthur understand. Finding him is impossible; Arthur is extremely skilled at what he does, if he doesn't want to be found then he won't be found. And how could Eames possibly make Arthur understand. It's true the man is composed of reason, but it's not reason to a fault as most would suspect. Eames knows the man is as in tune to his emotions as anyone else when it comes to relationships.

Still, Eames tries calling Arthur. It doesn't go ignored as Eames had thought it would. Arthur answers in a clipped, mechanical voice: "That was a new low, Eames. Even for you. I do not want to hear it right now."


End file.
